Chuck and Sarah Vs the BamChickaWowWow
by The Cabal
Summary: Six humorous one-shots depicting the aftermath of "Chuck Vs The Other Guy," written by five of Chuckdom's most esteemed authors. Mxpw, Liam2, crystalelements, Wepdiggy, and Frea O'Scanlin.
1. Almost a Patriot

**mxpw's A/N:** _When this Cabal was first created, way back when, this was not what I imagined the result would be. Apparently, I forgot who I was partnering with. Credit for this brilliant, but thoroughly twisted, series of one-shots detailing coitus interruptus, deservedly, goes toward **Wep **and **Liam**._

**Wepdiggy's A/N: **_So our leadoff hitter is a man that adores the show "Millennium." Yeah, I know. But despite that, he's actually a very talented writer, and honestly, I can think of no one better suited to get this big ball of win rolling than **Liam2**. So, yeah, I will admit that I sometimes feel out of place in this group. Like I'm the affirmative action case in The Cabal. Like the lone shit writer amongst so many talented authors. But nonetheless, I enjoy being a part of this wonderful group of people (**Frea** and **Crystal**), and pervs (I'm looking at you, **Liam** and **MXPW**). _

**crystalelement's A/N: **_So here we were, all minding our own business one day, when suddenly _**_Liam_**_ was all like, "Hey, let's think up more ways to cockblock Chuck and Sarah!" Y'know, as if it hadn't happened enough this season. And we were all, "…Okay, sure, why not." So here's what you get: _**_The Cabal's_**_ humorous takes on what could've happened following the events of The Other Guy, starting with _**_Liam's_**_ ever-hilarious "Almost A Patriot." Hopefully you'll all laugh your asses off. Also, please don't shoot us for keeping them apart. Again. Sort of._

**Frea's A/N: **_I don't know what I'm doing here, I think the others just read "Fates," decided that I was shiny, tranqued me, and suddenly I'm part of this Cabal business and _**Crystal**_ is cracking the whip, all "Write more, $%#*!" It started with THIS section, so really, it's all _**Liam**_'s fault. I just hope you enjoy it!_

**Liam's A/N: **_I'm fucking epic, what more is there to say? Dammit **Crystal** stop it! I don't wanna say more! Ow ow ow! Okay, in all seriousness, the four people with A/N's above me are four of the most incredible people I've ever known. I look at the collective works of each and every one and marvel at their brilliance. And the fact any of them have anything to do with me surprises me to no end. To each of you, **mxpw**, **Wep**, **Crystal**, and **Frea**, thank you all for your friendship and indulgence in this project. It means so much. As for you lot, the readers, enjoy these absolutely hilarious stories from four incredible writers and two slightly disappointing entries from me. _

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_Almost A Patriot_

_By Liam_

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She hadn't spoken in five minutes. Five long, chilly minutes. She just sat there, leaning against the headboard, smoking her second cigarette. The look upon her face was... Well, there was really no singular word to describe it. But he recalled a similar expression on Amanda Witmer's face back in 8th grade biology when Mr. Stevens told her she had to dissect the frog if she intended to pass the course. That look was made incredibly discomforting by the fact Chuck suddenly felt very froggy.

Ribbit.

"Sarah, there are really no words..."

Without even glancing his way, Sarah held up a hand to silence him. She shook her head slightly. No, dude. Don't.

She took a final drag off her cigarette and snuffed it out. With her hand already in the neigborhood, she grabbed her cell phone. Scrolling through her contact list, she tapped a number, flipped her hair aside, and placed the phone to her ear.

"Carina, hi!"..."Yeah, this is THAT phone call."...Sarah finally turned to face him. With perfect annunciation, she said, "Thirty-two seconds."

From his own sitting position, Chuck slid down, trying to disappear into the mattress.

"Well, at least there wasn't much of a mess to clean up."

Chuck lifted the sheets and disappeared beneath them.

"Yeah, well, Chuck's difficulty with trigger control seems to extend beyond firearms."

Chuck groaned as the phone conversation continued for another couple minutes. Chuck finally heard Sarah disconnect the call, followed a moment later by another cigarette being lit. He chanced pulling down the sheet below his eyes.

Sarah quietly puffed away, her head cocked down and eyes fixed upon him. She took a deep drag and exhaled smoke as she critically eyed him. "Three years," she finally said. "That's how long astronauts wait for their shuttle mission. Three years waiting for blast off. And your freaking space shuttle explodes on the platform."

"Wanna snuggle?" Chuck asked, hoping to placate his still-not-quite lover.

Sarah's only answer was to press out the cigarette on his chest. Chuck howled in pain, but Sarah immediately shushed him with, "Quiet, bitch!"

"Yes'm."

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**Coming Up Next**: **Frea O'Scanlin**_ pits Sarah and Chuck against the entire government of the United States in _**Bam-Tanka-Wow-Wow.**


	2. Bam Tanka Wow Wow

**Wepdiggy**_'s A/N: Wow. So, yeah, this is a lot of pressure. I usually don't have to write A/N's for stories that don't suck, but here I am, just trying not to screw it up. Anyway, the following piece was written by _**Frea O'Scanlin**_, the brilliant author of _**What Fates Impose.**_ And yeah, she can do drama, and action, and intrigue, and geek/nerd references with the best of them. But on top of that, she's a very funny lady, and that's what shines through here. One line in particular had me doubled over with laughter, and I think you'll know which one when you read it. Anyway, have I doted on her enough? Actually I probably haven't, but you're not here to read my long, rambling A/N, you're here to read the brilliant (I seem to use that word a lot with her, I know) work of Frea. So sit back, get a nice cool (adult, if you're old enough) beverage, and prepare to be heart warmed... er... well prepare to laugh, at least ;-)_

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**Bam-Tanka-Wow-Wow**

_by Frea O'Scanlin_

Sarah's fingers pushed the laptop closed. Her eyebrows went up; she gave him the half-amused look he not-so-secretly adored. "I don't know—" he began to say.

"Shut up and kiss me." And she yanked him to her.

Well, he'd been given his orders. Every part of him screaming with a mixture of glee, giddiness, and awe, Chuck scrabbled for the covers and pressed close, his hands beginning to roam…

The phone rang.

"Ignore it," Sarah muttered with her lips still against his neck. The movement sent shivers all over him. "Whoever it is, they'll call back."

"Okay." Chuck was all too happy to oblige. He began working his way down the buttons of her shirt, following with his lips…

Somebody knocked on the door.

Chuck, breathing heavy, froze, his forehead still pressed to Sarah's sternum. He lifted his head to give her an apologetic look. "I put the 'do not disturb' sign up, I swear I did."

She was breathing just as hard. "It's okay. They'll go away."

No dice. The pounding continued unabated. "Agents Bartowski and Walker! This is Agent Sanderson! By order of the United States government, you are hereby ordered—"

Chuck and Sarah exchanged an uncertain look. "Did he just—did Beckman really get somebody—whoa, that was fast."

Reluctantly, Sarah levered herself out from under him. "Excuse me, I'll be right back."

"You probably shouldn't kill him, though right now, 'your Chuck' or no, I am all for it."

"Noted." Sarah, much to Chuck's regret, did up the buttons of her shirt and disappeared around the corner to the door. Chuck waited for the telltale blast of a gun at close range, but nothing happened. There was a loud thud; Sarah reappeared shortly afterward.

"Is he dead?"

"He'll want to be when he wakes up, but no. Now," and Sarah's eyes gleamed, "where were we?"

She dove at him. In record time, Chuck's shirt dangled from the room's chandelier, though he didn't quite remember how it came off. His belt was a different matter—the memory of just how Sarah took that one off of him would be forever etched into a very, very happy part of his brain, right next to the mischievous grin she gave him after she spat out the belt. "I'd, ah, return the favor," Chuck managed to gasp, his fists bunched up in the back of her unbuttoned dress shirt (admittedly, _his_ dress shirt, but who was he to quibble at this point?), "but you already don't seem to be wearing any pants, so…"

"Lucky me," Sarah said, smirking as she rubbed against him on the way to kiss him.

Chuck's elbow knocked the lamp from the side table as he scrambled up to get better leverage to pry the shirt from her. Neither noticed.

They did, however, notice what happened next. Even cavorting around with a mostly naked Sarah Walker couldn't distract Chuck from a tactical team dropping a full assault through every one of the room's six windows. Unfortunately.

Chuck stared in horror at the six identical gun barrels pointing at them. Quickly, he yanked Sarah's shirt back down over her shoulders.

Sarah, on the other hand, didn't show any signs of horror or nervousness. She merely sighed, settled back on her haunches, and said, "Gentlemen."

The team leader took a cautious step forward. "Agents Walker and Bartowski, you are hereby ordered to cease all, um, activity in Paris and to return to Burbank, California—"

Sarah let him drone on and leaned forward, rubbing against Chuck as she did so. He yelped when he felt her hand squeeze his ass on the way to the gun he'd stashed under the pillows for her.

"On orders of General Diane Beckman of the National Security Agency, you are both hereby ordered to be on Flight 331 out of Charles de Gaulle airport at 1300 hours—"

Chuck and Sarah ignored the leader. "Go with the tranq gun," Chuck whispered, fascinated at the way Sarah shivered against him. "They do work for the good guys, after all. No matter how much we want them all dead."

Sarah slid her hand a little more to the right.

"Failure to comply with these orders will of course be—"

Even sitting as close as he was, Chuck barely saw Sarah move. One moment, she was leaning over him, the next, each member of the tactical team sported a new accessory in the side of his neck. Chuck looked from the end of the tranq gun in her hand to the team leader in alarm.

Six bodies fell with a single thud.

"Whoa, dead-eye," Chuck said. "Remind me to never piss you off."

"Who says I'm going to use the tranq gun when you piss me off?"

Chuck gulped.

Sarah leaned in and kissed him again, this time longer and sweeter, and a great deal less playful. "I'm kidding, of course. Shooting you involves too much paperwork. Now, c'mon, let's move these bodies out into the hallway."

"Won't the maids notice?"

"Would you rather have an audience if one of these idiots has built up a resistance to tranq darts?"

She had a point, even if he couldn't help but wonder if they shouldn't just do the deed, surrounded by unconscious soldiers or no. At this rate, the US government was going to—no, better not to think about that. He knew from ample experience that however horrible the scenario he imagined, the government could top it. And the longer he waited, the worse it would be. If he waited too long, for instance, damned Bryce Larkin would come back from the dead and sweep Sarah off of her feet into his undead arms.

So Chuck didn't argue and very, very quickly helped drag the tac team out into the hall, where they left a pile, poor, doomed Sanderson in the unenviable bottom position.

He didn't even get all the way back into the room. Sarah shut the door—by shoving him against it and fusing her mouth to his neck. He honestly couldn't say he minded, but there was just too much cloth between them at this point. Greedily, he peeled her shirt away, attacking her bared shoulder with his lips and teeth—

They heard the unmistakable _thrub-thrub-thrub_ of the chopper at the same time. Sarah groaned and pushed her forehead into his chest. "She didn't."

"It's Beckman. She and the rest of the US government, FULCRUM, and the Ring never want us to have sex. Ever. Of course she did."

"Even I don't know how she managed to mobilize a chopper this fast."

"Maybe we should look at this as a compliment?"

"I'd rather be looking at the world. Upside down."

The last little bit of blood left in Chuck's head abruptly headed south.

Muttering under her breath, Sarah grabbed Chuck's arm and hauled.

"Um, where are we going?"

"Into the bathroom. No windows. We can get a new hotel room. After." Sarah slammed the door closed behind them, this time without using Chuck (he had to admit, he was more than a little disappointed by that). She turned the water on full force and yanked him into the shower, jeans and all. He flinched at the water temperature, but such was the power of a wet Sarah Walker, he completely forgot all about everything else on the planet.

"You know," Sarah gasped as she finally pried off his wet jeans and tossed them to the side, "I always kind of wanted our first time to be in the shower."

"Did you?" Chuck pinned her to the wall again so that his hands could roam at will and finally remove her bra. He began to work his way down her collarbone. "Well, can't say I mind—what's that noise?"

"There is no noise," Sarah said in a guttural voice, her eyes furious. "There can't be a noise because this isn't happening. Three years, Chuck. Three _years_."

"Trust me, Sarah, I _know_!"

"Ignore it." Sarah grabbed him by the hips and yanked him closer, her hands frantic as they scraped down his back, her nails digging in. "It'll go away, it'll go away, it'll go away."

After a moment of sheer bliss, wet bodies slithering together under the pounding water, Chuck sighed and lifted his hands, planting them against the tiles on either side of Sarah. He was breathing hard enough that his chest was heaving. "It's not going away. What is it?"

"I don't know, I don't care, right now all I want is for you to take your—"

Abruptly, the noise grew louder, cutting Sarah off mid-rant. Chuck wasn't sure if he was grateful or not. Swearing at every single employee of the US government from the mailman to the president, he ducked out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and went to investigate. He was pretty sure that, Sarah really, really wouldn't mind if he suddenly turned into a mass murderer, as long as he stopped the damned noise. Kicking shattered glass out of the way, he crossed to the window, intending to build an assault rifle out of broken glass and splintered wood if he had to—

What he saw made him gape.

"Uh, Sarah."

Dripping, furious, and unfortunately wearing a towel herself, she joined him at the window. Her jaw dropped. "Is that—"

"Yes. Yes it is."

"But is it really necessary for her to send—"

"Apparently."

Sarah's jaw firmed, her eyes clouding over in a way that spelled terrible, terrible things ahead for anybody who dared to cross her. "This time," she growled, her voice once again guttural, frightening, and vaguely reminiscent of something heard outside of _The Exorcist_, "I really don't appreciate the tank."

"Me neither, but the question is—which tank?" Chuck shook his head in a daze. "There are five. It's official. We're never having sex, ever. Us copulating apparently spells the end of civilization as we know it."

"Oh, I don't know about that." Sarah tilted her head contemplatively, studying the small army on the ground below. When she looked over at him, her eyes sparkled with fun. "Ever done it in a tank?"

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**Next Up: Wepdiggy** _gives us the best post-coital Sarah Walker on the planet in_ **Rocky Road to Rocky Road**.


	3. Rocky Road to Rocky Road

**Liam's A/N: **_What can be said about _**Wepdiggy**_ that hasn't been said dozens of times already? That he's lazy, immoral, vulgar, a borderline alcoholic with aspirations of crossing the border, and a complete sex fiend. Seriously, this man's sex addiction makes Tiger Woods look like a priest... Oh. Maybe not the best analogy._

_Anywho, despite all _**Wep's**_ flaws, which are innumerable (And did I mention he's Jewish? Just throwing that out there.), he does have one thing going for him. Well, two, but his Doctor Who obsession isn't relevant to this. He is an AMAZING author. And his range is across the board. Dramatic, action packed, witty. You name it, he can do it. This time, he hits us with some good old fashioned wholesome perversion. And damn is it brilliant. Seriously, if you read this and DON'T piss yourself in laughter, see your doctor, because you may have bladder issues._

**Wep**_, I may not say this enough, but you truly are fantastic. And that goes for you guys, too._** mxpw**_, _**Crystal**_, and _**Frea**_. You guys are all amazing._

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**Rocky Road to Rocky Road**

_By_

_Wepdiggy_

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The crying still hadn't stopped, but at least he was being quiet about it now. Silent tears she could handle, but the loud sobs she'd listened to for the thirty minutes after they finished had given her a headache. Now if he'd just wipe the snot from his nose.

Sarah spooned out another big bite of Rocky Road ice cream and luxuriated in the feel of the cold, sweet taste against her tongue.

"I didn't know they had delivery ice cream," Chuck said timidly.

Sarah shrugged. "They probably don't, but I'm Sarah fucking Walker, and if I want ice cream brought to me, people make it so." Then: "So I see you're talking again."

"Yeah," Chuck said softly. "My jaw isn't throbbing quite as much anymore."

"Yeah, I'm sorry for slapping you," Sarah said. "Well, I'm kinda sorry. But I think you learned your lesson."

"I did," Chuck said quickly, defensively. "I promise I'll never try to blow a rape whistle again."

"Good boy," Sarah said, cramming her mouth full of more ice cream. "Why did you even _have_ a rape whistle?" she asked as she swallowed the final bite of Rocky Road from her pint.

"I, um, I don't usually carry one," Chuck said. "But Casey gave it to me last night, after I picked you up. He said I might need it. Something about the things in your file."

Huh. She didn't know they kept up with stuff like that. Although she had to admit that it made sense. The CIA knew everything else about her. Why shouldn't they know about her bedroom performance and preferences?

In fact, it probably came straight from Bryce's mission reports. He was just the type to put something like that in there. God. He'd been such a pussy in the beginning. Even worse than Chuck. Bryce would almost always lock himself in the bathroom and cry after Sarah had her way with him. Four times that she knew about, he tried to request a new partner. He'd been denied every time, of course. In the latter days of their partnership, he'd even admitted to her that he tried to get away from her. But Graham told him that it built character, so he'd left them together.

And in the end, she'd trained him to not whine so much, and to just give her what she wanted. Eventually, Sarah knew she'd have Chuck trained in much the same way. He'd be her living, breathing sex toy, just as her men were supposed to be. Although the training period was always taxing. Men could be such bitches. When would they learn to be careful what they wished for? They would beg and plead to be with Sarah Walker, and then when they got her, they got all weepy and sensitive.

And it was just men. She never had these issues with Carina. Anything Sarah could dish out, Carina could take, and even return tenfold.

Men. Pussies.

Sarah sighed. "I'm out of ice cream," she said matter-of-factly, discarding the empty carton and spoon on the floor beside the bed.

"Um," Chuck stumbled. "Um, you want me to go get you some more?" he asked nervously.

"Chuck," Sarah said as if she was speaking to a small child. "I only eat ice cream _after_ sex. More to point, I eat exactly one pint of ice cream after sex. And I've used up that one pint for the one time that we've had sex. But after we do it again, you're welcome to go get me more."

Chuck swallowed, hard. "We're – we're gonna do it again?" he asked in a terrified voice.

Sarah looked at him incredulously. "Chuck, I waited almost three years to get you between my legs. Do you _really_ think I'm going to stop after one time?"

"I, well, I," Chuck stuttered.

Sarah then fixed him with a hard stare, noticing his state of dress. "And when did I tell you to put your pants back on?" she asked.

Chuck looked down. Well, she _hadn't _told him. "I guess, um, you didn't tell me to put them back on," he said weakly.

"That's right," Sarah pointed out. "And what did we discuss earlier about things you're told to do?"

Chuck sighed. "There are three classes of expectations in this relationship," he recited in a monotone voice. "Things I'm expected to do because I'm told, things I'm expected to do because I'm not told to stop, and things I'm expected not to do because I wasn't given expressed consent."

"And which of those three classes would putting your pants back on fall under?" Sarah asked in a threatening tone.

"The third one," Chuck said softly.

"Exactly!" Sarah exclaimed.

Chuck then wordlessly began to remove his pants, his eyes now shining with unshed tears.

"Oh, Christ," Sarah said. "Are you seriously going to cry again? Aren't you out of tears yet, pussy?"

"I thought so," Chuck choked out. "I, um, I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't get me off, Chuck." She paused. "What gets me off?"

"Me," sob, "not being a little bitch," whimper, "and giving it to you hard like the filthy whore you are."

Sarah smiled. "Aww, you're learning so quickly." She pushed Chuck's back against the mattress, and took her place astride him. "Now, hold on tight, and make sure you don't finish before I do."

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**After These Messages, We'll Be Right Back**_ with_** Crystal's **_awesome call-back to the glory of season two with _**Karma Comes In Many Varieties (Including Glow-In-The-Dark)**.


	4. Karma Comes In Many Varieties

**Frea's A/N: **_So if anybody doesn't know who the fantasmic (see what I did there?) _**crystalelements**_ is, RUN, do not walk, jog if you must (but, really: sprint), but go check out her profile page. This woman is seriously the funniest thing to ever happen to the Chuckverse. Seriously, _**Chuck Vs. the Closet Gleek**_ has introduced so many great words to my vocabulary, words like "Chuckoodle."__ When the Cabal decided that canon just hadn't done enough to keep Chuck and Sarah apart, _**Crystal**_ jumped right in and produced this marvelous scene, featuring my favorite character of the series! She gets mad props for that, but it's really the overall story that's enjoyable, just the way she tells it, the way she uses wormholes so seamlessly (without the reader even knowing!), and the way...well, you'll see. Without further ado, I present to you:_

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**Karma Comes In Many Varieties (Including Glow-in-the-Dark)**

_by crystalelements_

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_This is real._

Sarah fell back against the pillows, throwing her head back with a moan as Chuck continued to ravage her neck. This was seriously happening. Three years full of wistful glances and covers-under-the-covers and desperate kisses and useless love interests meant for distraction and almosts and maybes, and finally, _finally_, they were going to _do_ this. If she weren't so ridiculously sex-deprived, Sarah would actually consider taking a step back from everything and cherishing the moment. _Chuck Bartowski and Sarah Walker, together at last..._

Yeah, screw cherishing the moment. Deciding that Chuck was a little too slow with his undressing, Sarah expertly flipped the both of them over, grabbed two fistfuls of Chuck's shirt and ripped it open. Buttons went flying. Then she tackled him again, searing their lips together as she guided his hands to the buttons of her own top.

His fingers moved at an extraordinary speed, undoing all seven buttons (yes, she counted) in record time. Sarah silently thanked the gaming gods as Chuck slid the white dress shirt off her shoulders and trailed hot kisses down her collarbone. Fingers burying into his soft curls, she pulled him down and—

Chuck shuddered and abruptly broke away, yanking the covers off. Sarah immediately shielded her eyes from the glare of the setting sun.

"Chuck," she managed through broken pants, "what are you—"

"Nearly forgot," Chuck gasped, rolling towards the edge of the bed. "Don't move, I'll be right back!"

Sarah grunted and pushed herself into a sitting position. What the hell was so important that he'd delay three years of pent up sexual tension? She watched in confusion as Chuck stumbled over to his bag and dug through it. A moment later he pulled out his cellphone, tapped a speed dial, and brought it to his ear.

"Hey, buddy, it's me," he said, running a hand through his hair. Sarah's mouth dropped open in disbelief. "Actually, you're right…how'd you guess?" He caught the look on Sarah's face and hastily continued, "Anyway, forget that—I mean, don't forget it, it relates to the topic—but you remember that IOU I grilled you about last year? Yeah, buddy, I'm gonna need the condom now." He disconnected and dropped the phone back in his bag.

Sarah stared at him. "Chuck, I think I forgot to tell you this the last time, but I'm on the _pill_. We don't even _need_ a condom."

Chuck balked. "You're…_what?_ How did you _forget_ to tell me last time?"

"We didn't exactly plan it," Sarah huffed defensively. "We were about to have sex for the first time, it was in the heat of the moment, and—_wait_." Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she pieced everything together. "IOU condom? No. _No._ Are you telling me that _Morgan_—"

A familiar "secret bro-code" knock interrupted her mid-rant, and Sarah whipped around to gape at the door. Silence, then:

"How—are you kidding me? He's _here?_ In _Paris?_"

"He was the one who convinced Casey to help me save you!" Chuck backed towards the door, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "I had to bring him along, Sarah!"

"But…you _just_ hung up with him! How is he—" Her face contorted in horror. "Oh my god, don't tell me you left him outside. Was he _listening_ to us this whole time?!"

Chuck's face paled. "I-I didn't…I thought he…I'm not—_Morgan!_" He cried, throwing the door open to welcome his little bearded friend. Sarah clutched the covers to her chest. "Buddy, change of plans, we really don't need it after all—"

Morgan ignored him and strode into the room, blissfully unaware of the sudden temperature drop emanating from one pissed off Sarah Walker. "Got here as fast as I could," he said brightly, punching Chuck in the shoulder with a wink. He grinned at Sarah as well. "So, looks like you're finally gonna get the girl, huh, stallion? Anyway, I'll be quick, I promise. I've got the whole shebang right here." He pulled out several brightly colored packets from his pocket and flashed them to Chuck. "We've got flavored, studded, warming, 'tingling pleasure', and my personal favorite: glow-in-the-dark. I'd say to go for studded for maximum enjoyment, but I'm sure you and your lady can work out the details."

Chuck was turning whiter by the second, eyes drifting between his official new girlfriend and soon-to-be-castrated best friend. "Morgan, I _really_ think you should leave now."

A movement from the bed caught both their eyes, and Chuck and Morgan turned to see Sarah with a gun in hand, the look in her eyes almost lethal.

"As much as we appreciate the variety of choices, Morgan," she said matter-of-factly, "Chuck and I would very much like to have sex without any more of your interruptions."

Morgan pointed a shaky finger to the gun. "I'm guessing that's the real thing, huh?"

"Get out."

"And that's my cue." His exit from the room was almost a blur. Sarah lowered the gun for all of about two seconds before his head popped in the door again:

"By the way, did Beckman tell you that I'm now an official member of Team Bartowski?"

His fist pump was interrupted by a loud gunshot; Sarah's bullet was now lodged into the doorframe, just inches above his raised hand. Morgan gave an audible squeak and vanished into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him.

After a long bout of silence, Chuck slowly and painfully met her gaze.

"He killed the mood, didn't he?"

Sarah folded her arms across her covered chest. "Yes."

He quickly dug into his bag again and pulled out a CD, a hopeful look on his face.

"Auditory aphrodisiac?"

Sarah smiled.

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**Boy, Are You In For A Treat**: _Because next up is_ **mxpw** _with his fantastic contribution (with a little help from _**Frea**_),_ **If It's Not One Thing, It's a Gay Zombie**_._


	5. If It's Not One Thing, It's a Gay Zombie

**Crystal's A/N**: _Before we decided to post these little drabbles, it was _**Frea's**_ job to decide who would write the A/N's for each chapter. (Thank you, rookie!) Lucky for me, I get the honor of introducing _**mxpw's**_ brilliantly-written story about gay zombies. (Yes. You read that right. See title for emphasis.) You may know him as the author of the popular fic, _**Chuck Versus the Double Agent**_. Maybe you know him through his uncanny ability to write some of the best Chuck/Casey friendship in the fandom. You've probably associated his username with the term "Sarina" and have often used both in the same sentence. The thing is, though, _**mxpw**_ is so much more than that. On top of being an amazingly talented writer, he's gone out of his way countless times to help an amateur like me improve both as a writer and as a person. Sure, he sometimes persuades me to use my powers for evil rather than good, and compensation usually comes in the form of lots (and lots) of Sarah-centric avatars for his profile page. But if there's one thing I know about this guy, it's that he never gives up. And that's the reason why his stories will continue to blow us all away. Go ahead and see for yourself! ;)_

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**If It's Not One Thing, It's a Gay Zombie**

_by mxpw_

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The final button of her shirt at last undone, Sarah let out a whimpering, breathy moan as Chuck slowly slipped the shirt off her shoulders.

It was finally happening. Finally. After three long, interminable years, she was finally getting the chance to be with the man she loved more than anything.

All the yearning, all the longing looks, the eternal nights of intense sexual frustration, were all coming to a head.

And if the hard object poking into her thigh was any indication, it was a very nice sized head at that.

Smiling, Sarah decided that there had been enough stalling. She wanted Chuck inside of her and she wanted him right now. With a deft flick of her fingers, she undid the clasp of her bra as Chuck trailed feather light kisses along her collarbone.

She pulled her bra away just in time for Chuck to press his chest close against hers. With an extremely ragged sigh, she tried to not so subtly hint that Chuck should move his wandering mouth lower on her chest, but he wasn't getting the message.

Fed up, she simply pressed down on the top of his head and he finally moved his mouth to just above her breasts. Come on, she silently urged, just a little lower…

That was when the moaning started.

Sarah blinked.

Hold on…what the hell? That didn't sound like her. She clamped her mouth shut. The moaning went on.

Yup, definitely not her.

It was a deep, vowel intensive, wailing moan. It was unnatural. It was unholy. It was really starting to harsh her buzz.

Was it…was it Chuck?

She let out a sudden gasp as Chuck's tongue caressed a very sensitive spot on her breast.

No, _definitely_ not Chuck.

Where the hell was it coming from?

She reluctantly opened her eyes to search for the source of the moaning. And just like that, it lumbered into the room like a drunken hobo with a gimpy right leg.

What…the…fuck?

Was she seeing things? She'd heard that sometimes people hallucinated in the throes of intense passion, but she hadn't even had her first orgasm yet.

She poked Chuck's head. In response, Chuck bit down lightly and she let out a long groan. She had to blink and suck in a breath to keep her her concentration. Again she tapped his head, far more urgently this time.

"Chuck," she said, her breathing barely under control.

He ignored her and again she moaned. God damn it, she admired his dedication—oh, God, she really appreciated it—but it was more than a little inconvenient at the moment. "Chuck!" she bellowed.

Chuck lifted his head to look at her with wide, affectionate brown eyes. "Hmm?"

Gently, she grabbed his chin and turned his head to look. "Please tell me I'm seeing things."

She could feel Chuck's jaw drop in her hand and he exclaimed, "Holy crap! It's Bryce!"

"Uh…hi, guys," Bryce said with a little wave.

"Damn it! I should have expected this—wait a second. What the hell is going on?" Chuck asked. He scrambled up to the head of the bed and wrapped a strong, but possessive, arm around her. Hastily, he pulled the sheet up to cover her naked chest. "You're dead!"

"Weeeelll," Bryce said, a hesitant smile on his pasty, half-rotting face. One of his crystal blue eyes was milky and slightly distended from the socket. "Only technically."

"And what does that mean?"

"Funny story," Bryce said and then stopped. "You know what? The details aren't really necessary. Suffice it to say, yeah…zombie."

"Oh," Sarah said.

"Oh," Chuck said.

"Yeeeeah."

"Well, I can't really say it's unexpected," Chuck said. "But I thought if anybody would'd be a zombie, it'd be Shaw."

Sarah couldn't help elbowing Chuck for the comment; he let out a gust of air. She ignored it to focus on Bryce. "Well, nice to see you're still somewhat alive, Bryce, but Chuck and I are in the middle of something so…get the hell out."

Okay, so maybe she was being a bit unreasonable considering her friend, who she thought was dead and had been cremated, was standing in her hotel room. Whole. And as a zombie. But she just didn't care.

Three years!

"But I can't leave, I've come for a very specific reason."

Chuck carefully extracted himself from the bed, a gun suddenly in his hand. "Bryce, I'm not going to let you eat our brains."

"Chuck, I'm not here to eat your brain."

"I won't let you eat Sarah's brain either!"

Sarah harrumphed and muttered, "Certainly be the first time he ever ate anything of mine."

She winced when she realized she had said her comment loud enough for Chuck to hear. Indeed, he gave her a pained look.

"I'm not here to eat Sarah's brain either."

Sarah threw her hands up in the air in frustration and the sheet slipped off her chest. She didn't care. "What the fuck are you here for then!?"

Bryce didn't even once glance at her naked breasts. Instead, he was focused entirely on Chuck.

"I'm here to give you head, Chuck," Bryce said earnestly.

The gun in Chuck's hand wavered slightly and her boyfriend looked thoroughly confused. "Huh? You mean, you've come to eat my head, right?"

"No, I meant exactly what I said. Did my vocal cords fall out again? I thought I fixed that." Zombie Bryce glanced down, searching the hotel room floor. Seeing nothing there, he shrugged and his right hand fell off.

"Wait, what?"

"Hey!" Sarah yelled and threw off the sheets. She exploded out of the bed, hands on her hips, naked except for white cotton panties. "That's my job!"

"I'm really…I'm really confused right now," Chuck said. He turned and looked at her for help; she did her best to reassure him. It was okay, she'd take care of this pesky problem and Chuck could get back to what he was doing with his tongue.

Bryce kept ignoring her. "Death provides a lot of clarity, Chuck. All those hours, listening to the earthworms, wondering about the greater meaning of it all…" He cocked his head to the side. Dead flesh sagged. "As I was drifting on the wind, I realized something. It was not Sarah that I've loved all this time, but you, Chuck!"

Bryce lumbered achingly slowly forward, both hands reaching out, and Chuck scrambled until his back was against the wall. "You are the reason why I came back from the dead the first time. You're why I couldn't quit the spy life. It was all for you, Chuck!"

"But…but…you're dead. You're a _zombie_." The gun fell so that it rested against Chuck's thigh.

Sarah sighed. As usual, she would have to do all the work. She marched around the bed, right past Bryce—who made no attempt to acknowledge her nudity—and up to Chuck. She gently took the gun and pushed him onto the bed.

He looked up at her and she felt a great swell of love well up in her chest. He looked like a lost little boy, hoping she'd keep him safe.

She spun on her heel and faced Zombie Bryce, gun at the ready. "Leave. Chuck is mine and you can't have him."

"I want him more!" Bryce lurched forward, scowling.

Sarah reacted instantly, firing two shots into Bryce's chest. He staggered and then looked at Sarah in disbelief.

"Seriously? Zombie here." He motioned at his oozing chest and gave her a "Duh" look.

"Why didn't that work?" Sarah asked, double-checking her gun to make sure nobody had swapped her bullets for blanks.

"The undead guy smelling up the room has a point," Chuck offered from the bed. "He's a zombie. He's kind of hard to kill if you don't know what you're doing."

"Now that you know how futile it is for you to shoot me, can you leave now so that I can have my way with Chuck?"

Chuck squeaked and dove under the covers.

"If you think I'm letting a zombie touch my boyfriend—"

"Pot."

"What are you talking about? This is Paris, not Amsterdam."

"No, I'm calling you 'Pot'."

"Huh?"

"Giving me shit for being into necrophilia…At least I'm not a dendropheliac!"

Chuck peeked his head out from underneath the covers. "What!?"

Bryce smirked, the gray skin on the right side of his face stretching ominously. "Rumor has it your girl likes to fuck trees."

Sarah felt all the color drain from her face before she bounced back with a deeply humiliated flush. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh come on, all that time with that…what was his name? Shawn?"

"Well, Shaw, but—"

"And how often did he give you the wood?"

"That's none of your business!" She turned her head to look at Chuck, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Damn him for learning how to control his emotions. "It really wasn't that often, Chuck, I swear. And it was more like a really spongy and bendy wood, like balsa. It just kind of flopped around, like a salmon trying to move upstream."

Both Bryce and Chuck winced slightly at the image that provided and Chuck said, "I really didn't need to hear that, Sarah."

"Sorry," she said sheepishly.

"You see?" Bryce said. "You really have no room to judge. At least I never had sex with a giant piece of wood, Chuck. Choose me!"

"Uh…"

"Sure, I'm a little cold and pasty and I have rotting flesh falling off, but I swear I'm done with the whole fucking you over unintentionally thing. I promise only intentional fucking from now on."

"Sarah, please!" Chuck pleaded.

"What do I do? I don't know how to kill him!"

"Don't you pay attention at all during movie night?"

"No!" Sarah hissed. "I was too busy daydreaming about screwing your brains out."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"I guess I can't blame you then." Chuck licked his lips and gave Bryce an apologetic-and-yet-fearful look. "Aim for the head. A bullet to the brain should probably do it, but decapitation works best."

"Hey! Really? You're going to kill me?" Bryce's look might have been wounded if the entire left side of his face hadn't decayed. "All for realizing what I never saw while I was alive? How is that even fair? What's a little gay sex between friends, huh?"

Sarah had had enough. She aimed at Bryce's head and pulled the trigger.

She hadn't taken the gimpy leg into account. Instants before Sarah pulled the trigger, the leg gave out, sending Bryce toppling to the ground in an uneven pile of rotten body parts. The bullet embedded itself into the wall.

"Well, that was unexpected," Sarah said, her ears ringing a bit from the gunshot in such close quarters. "Is he dead?"

Chuck gave her an exasperated look as the pile on the floor began to writhe. "You really didn't pay _any _attention to any of those movies, did you?"

"Three years, Chuck." Sarah rolled her eyes. "Three. Fucking. Years."

"Good point." Gingerly, Chuck climbed out of the bed, giving the undead Bryce a wide berth. "Gonna shoot at him again? You should probably do it now, while he's incapacitated…" He sounded uncertain.

Unfortunately, Sarah recognized the tone, and wanted to sigh. This was why she would never be able to take Chuck near an animal shelter as long as they lived. Chuck just tended to adopt creatures—he'd pulled her in right away, he'd altered Casey, he'd kept Jeff and Lester from winding up in state prison, he'd kept Morgan from disappearing into a grape-soda-fueled oblivion of bad kung fu movies. And now Chuck was going to adopt poor, gay, undead Bryce Larkin again.

She was almost tempted to shoot Bryce right away before the full feelings could kick in, but if she did that, there probably wasn't going to be sex in the near future. Chuck could be such a girl about these things.

So she sighed and picked up her shirt.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Chuck asked, looking regretful as the CIA agent's assets vanished under the blouse.

"Get dressed."

"What?"

"We're going to go down to the desk, we're going to get another room, I'm going to buy us champagne, we're going to get very, very drunk, have sex, and forget this ever happened."

"Sounds good to me," Chuck decided, pulling on his shirt. He quickly grabbed his laptop and bag, stepping squeamishly over Bryce. "What are we going to do about him, though?"

"I said, we're going to forget this ever happened." Sarah glanced over her shoulder as she pulled her pants on. When she looked back at Chuck, her expression was questioning. "Zombies are supposed to be really slow, right?"

Chuck squinted at her as they left. "How on earth do you remember that part, but not how to kill them? You're Sarah Walker, you have 'I kill things and do it with style' embossed on your business card."

"Do not." Sarah rolled her eyes and shut the door on the still moaning, still-trapped-on-the-floor Bryce. "And what does it matter? We're going to get a new room, we're going to get drunk, and you're going to do that thing with your tongue again."

"Yes, ma'am."

Neither noticed, on the way to the lobby, the disembodied hand that slowly, slowly crept out of Chuck's computer bag, fingers outstretched toward the crotch of his jeans…

* * *

**And Last But Certainly Not Least, Liam** _returns to sweep up the mess all of the other Cabal members have left behind with_ **Nerds: Using Fibonacci to Get Laid Since 1202 AD.**


	6. Nerds: Using Fibonacci To Get Laid

**mxpw's A/N**: _Originally, I was going to write something here that was disparaging and befitting of a degenerate of **Liam's** caliber, but I decided that that would be too repetitive and run longer than the actual one-shot. I thought about it and decided to do what I do best. I'm not witty like **Frea**, fast on my feet like **Wep**, fearless like **Liam**, and certainly not cloying and innocent like **Crystal**. No, I'm the wet blanket. I'm the guy the other members of the Cabal go to when they want their enthusiasm to die. So instead of being fun, I'm simply going to tell the truth: **Liam** is a great teacher. Since I've met him, I've learned more insults than I could ever hope to use, I've learned that mocking one's mother is a good conversation starter, I've learned that trannies are people too, and I've learned that if I ever need a funny joke or a positive comment (as long as you're **Crystal** or **Frea**), intermixed with cynical, yet brutally funny observations on life, I can go to him. All of these fine qualities that **Liam** possesses can be seen in the following one-shot. It's biting, it's funny, it's twisted, it's gross, it's so Chuck and Sarah, and most importantly of all, it includes my favorite thing. So read and enjoy. There's a reason why he gets two entries instead of one. _

_I salute you, co-Overlord. Speaking of, is there anyway we can insert it into the Cabal's bylaws that **Frea** has to do all our work for us? We should discuss this at the next best opportunity._

**

* * *

**

**Nerds: Using Fibonacci To Get Laid Since 1202 AD**

_By Liam_

* * *

It was finally happening. Three long years. No more furtive glances. No more missed chances. No ridiculous third points of a triangle. Chuck Bartowski was about to make love to the woman of his dreams.

She was so achingly beautiful, stretched out beneath him. Chuck couldn't help but take a moment to marvel. Clad in a simple white cotton bra and panty set, her blonde locks splayed across the pillow, arching her back slightly, trying to decrease the distance between them. With an outstretched hand, she cupped his cheek delicately.

"Chuck," she whimpered. "Chuck, please."

And remarkably, the woman he desired for three long years wanted him as badly as he wanted her. Gently, Chuck lowered, placing his full weight upon Sarah's form. She moaned in desire at the heavy contact, her left leg instinctively wrapping around his waist, turning towards him slightly. Chuck used the chance to trail his hand along the bare flesh along the small of her back, then around to her hip, his fingertips teasing the light fabric of her panties. They slipped beneath and--

What the deuce?

Apparently he said it aloud. He snapped a confused glance to Sarah, who looked away in embarrassment. With a quick jerk, Chuck ripped away her panties--

To reveal a chastity belt. Hold on, _a chastity belt_?!

"Sarah? Is this a chastity belt?"

Sarah laughed nervously. "Yeah, funny story..."

"I like funny stories." Something in Chuck's tone indicated he wouldn't particularly like this one.

"Well, uh, I've had it for a while now. And, uh, I had a past lover fit me with it after the last time we were together...intimately."

"Sarah...it's a chastity belt."

"Well, this lover is kinda...possessive. She was worried that I was becoming too close to you."

Somewhere amidst that last sentence, Chuck's mind blew a gasket. It might have been around the word--

"She?!?!"

With a cute little shrug and chagrined smile, Sarah offered, "Carina?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"We've only been together the...several...times."

"Carina Hansen put a chastity belt on you?!"

"Miller."

"What?"

"Her name is Miller. Yeah, I'm still confused about that, too."

"Carina Miller put a chastity belt on you?"

"Like I said. Possessive."

Chuck stared at her several long moments, mouth agape, before his eyes again turned to the surprisingly thin and form fitting contraption protecting the Promised Land. He tapped at the crotch, marveling at what had to be some kind of space aged CIA/NASA composite metal alloy.

"How do you pee?!" he incredulously asked.

"I don't." Off his baffled looked, she explained, "There's a reason why I've been acting so bitchy lately. I've been holding it in for four months."

Chuck's mind immediately went to another implication. "You've worn this for four months?"

"Yup."

"So that means you and Shaw never..."

With a "give-me-a-break" look, Sarah said, "Seriously Chuck? Do you really think if Shaw got a piece of this action he would have been so Shaw-like? One turn with me and that man would have been more laid back than a hound dog on Prozac."

As Chuck carefully considered that comment, he turned his focus back downwards. Along the top of the belt, at the "waist", was a series of numbers printed on small panels, inlaid amidst a square console. It almost looked like--

"Sarah, is the locking mechanism to your belt a Fibonacci sequence?"

Sarah's head snapped down to look. Her eyes widened. "Well, fuck me."

"Believe me, I'm trying."

With skilled fingers - a fact Sarah happily took note of - Chuck quickly configured the tiles into the proper sequence. With a sharp "pop!" the locking mechanism disengaged.

With that done, all Chuck had to do was unsnap the latchings along either hip and--

"Oh God!"

Sarah groaned, her embarrassment growing. "Oh yeah. It's kinda like when I broke my arm in basic training and two months later took the cast off." Chuck considered opening the window to fumigate the room, but thought that might get him killed. "Maybe I should take a quick shower?" Sarah suggested.

Holding his breath, Chuck simply nodded his head and said, "If you want."

"And maybe I should shave, too."

"Okey-dokey."

Sarah slid from bed and shuffled into the bathroom. "I hafta piss like a racehorse!" she shouted just before the door slammed shut.

Chuck lifted the room phone and dialed room service. "Hello? I'd like to place an order for a dozen scented candles and a pack of Bic razors, please. And if it's available, a bottle of brain bleach."

* * *

_Next Time: A very special bonus chapter written by the wonderful and talented **daydreamer2578. **Hold on for this one, boys and girls. This one will get the **Liam** stamp-of-approval when it comes to depravity. _


	7. Sarah Is A Naughty Little Girl

**Liam's A/N: **_So here's the deal. The Cabal has five dues paying members. We also have a quasi sixth member, and that is **Daydreamer2578. **I say quasi, because I'm not sure we ever put it to a vote. If anybody has thoughts on that, let mxpw and me know. _

_At any rate, **daydreamer **is fantastic. She's a tremendous author. Serously, check out her profile page and catch up if you haven't. And this chapter is so brilliantly perverted and hilarious. But looking past the trivial stuff like writing ability, I can honestly say she's one of the most spectacular women I've had the priviledge of talking to. She and I only earnestly began chatting a couple weeks ago, but I can't put into words how much I adore this woman. She's funny, smart, sweet. And most importantly, I can talk to her about anything. It's my honor to call her a friend._

**mxpw's A/N**:_ So I've known daydreamer for a while now. She was the first person I really got to know in the Chuck fandom. And if that wasn't enough to predispose me to liking her, she wrote the best Sarina story ever. As you can imagine, this scores her major points in my book. This story is a great example of her wicked sense of humor. It was an easy decision to add this to our little collection. So I hope you enjoy this entirely twisted tale by **daydreamer2578**. Oh and it would seem redundant to echo what **Liam** said above, so let me just say ditto. _

* * *

Sarah's a Naughty Little Girl

_By Daydreamer2578_

_Thanks to _**Titania**_ for the awesomely inspired beta_

"Hee. You're touching my boobies."

Chuck stopped mid-thrust.

_You're touching my…?_

_Boobies?_

Just a second ago Chuck had thought that there was no power in the 'verse that could stop him. After three years, he finally found himself perched on his elbows above one very naked and very willing Sarah Walker. One hand was firmly clamped around her breast, the other buried wrist-deep in her hair; her head was thrown back, his teeth on her neck, her legs wrapped tight around his waist, heels digging into his thighs, fingernails raking his back. He was a mere inch from the moment he had been dreaming of for 944 days, 4 hours 8 minutes and… 32, 33, 34 seconds now.

And oh, the sounds she was making. As he had long suspected, Sarah Walker did indeed purr. And gasp, and moan, and breathe his name in his ear in a way that made his entire body spasm with desire.

But then…

_Boobies?_

With an effort greater than that of Atlas shrugging, Chuck stilled his movements and raised his head. Surely she hadn't been giggling? She couldn't have. Sarah may purr, but she does not giggle.

"Sarah?"

"Who's Sawah?"

Chuck shook his head. _Baby talk?_

Suddenly comprehension dawned.

"Oh, I get it. You want to role play, right? Okay." Chuck was confused, but more than willing to play along with whatever Sarah desired. "I gotta admit that I find that a bit odd right at this particular moment, but hey, whatever gets you in the mood. I am a very adaptable spy you know. So you're going to be the naughty college girl, and I'll be what? The frat boy jock bent on mischief? The professor who you're trying to get a better grade out of?"

"Silly, I don't go to college. Daddy says paying for an education is for suckers."

_Daddy_?

He's a millimeter away from stuffing her like a Thanksgiving turkey, and she starts talking about her daddy?

While her body was still intimately entwined with his, her entire demeanor had changed. The hands that had been grabbing his ass and doing unspeakable things to his manhood were now idly creating animal shapes in his hair and she began giggling again at the results. Soon, she started squirming and drumming her heels against his ass in a disjointed rhythm that drove him even further into her.

"Hee. That tickles."

With a groan that could have been heard from atop the Eiffel tower, Chuck rolled over onto his side and away from Sarah.

"Sarah? What's going on? If you don't feel like you're ready for this yet, if you need some time to work things out, just tell me. I can take things slow…er."

"Why do you keep calling me Sawah?"

"Well, what would you like me to call you?"

"Sammy."

Chuck gaped.

"Sammy?"

"Well, it's Samantha, weally," Sarah said shyly, gazing at him wide-eyed from behind an earnest face. "Samantha Lisa. Sometimes Daddy calls me Sammy Li."

"Sammy Li?"

"Hey! That's me! Sammy Li mmmph!"

Before Chuck even realized his hand was moving, it clapped itself over her mouth. Hearing her first name the way he had had been bad enough. There was no way he was going to hear her full name coming out of the mouth of whatever demented child was currently running amok in Sarah's head.

"Nice to meet you Sammy."

"Silly Chuck, I know who you are." Sarah crossed her eyes at him, puffed out her cheeks, and stuck out her tongue.

"Really? You do?"

"Of course I do. You're my Big Damn Hero!"

Despite himself, Chuck grinned. For a second. Apparently Sarah did have a Whedonesque geek buried in there somewhere. Too bad all it took was a psychotic break for her to emerge.

Oh God. Was that what this was?

He had done it.

After three years of their damn questions and angst, he had really, truly done it.

He had broken Sarah Walker.

He rolled over on his back and stared at the sculpted ceiling of their hotel room. He needed to think.

Beside him, Sarah giggled.

"What?" Chuck asked absently.

"I can see your pee pee."

Chuck groaned and sprung out of the bed, pulling the sheet around his waist. Hitching the fabric up like a skirt, he started to pace the hotel room.

"I saw your pee pee," Sarah rang out in a sing-song voice. "I saw Chuck's pee pee."

He whirled to face her. "Well could you try covering your _boobies_ for me for a while? I'm finding them rather distracting at the moment."

Sarah giggled again and pulled the duvet up over her head with a flourish.

"I like your pee pee, Chuck. It's much bigger than Bwyce's," he heard from under the covers.

A slow grin spread across Chuck's face.

"Really?"

"Uh, huh," he could see the movement of her head nodding vigorously. "Shaw's too."

The grin became a full face-splitting smile.

"Hah! I knew it!"

Sarah pulled down the comforter and smiled up at Chuck. And for a split second before the smile spread into Sammy's goofy grin, he saw Sarah, _His Sarah_, there.

Chuck shook his head rapidly. Whoever's pee pee was bigger (_Mine!_) was not the important thing right now.

"Sarah?"

"Sammy!" Sarah pouted.

"Okay, Sammy. You remember Bryce and Shaw? So you know why you're here?"

"Well, duh." She heaved a dramatic sigh. "Bryce was really pretty and fun, but then he went and got all dead on me. Twice." She pouted again and her lower lip trembled. "But I didn't really mind so much the second time because I had my Chuck. But then you wanted to go and be a big bad spy and got me all sad and Shaw liked my neck, and he was kind of cute like Pinocchio, but then he wasn't a real boy at all and went and got all bad, and you killed him dead and saved me. You're my hero, Chuck!"

Sarah launched her gloriously naked self up out of the bed and enveloped Chuck in a fierce hug. Her skin was still slick and shiny with sweat and she smelled of him and her and the promise of sex still to come. Chuck couldn't help but respond as she threw her arms around him and shook him side-to-side roughly before planting a big kiss on each cheek with a resounding pair of smacks.

"You're my hero, Chuck. And now we get to get married and live Happily Ever After and have lots and lots of babies."

Chuck took a step back from the naked blonde agent-child and adjusted the sheet around his waist to disguise his growing discomfort with the situation.

"Sammy, do you even know where babies come from?"

"My Daddy says I was a gift from the angels. I hope the angels bring us two boys and two girls. One boy with curly blond hair and blue eyes, one girl with straight brown hair and blue eyes, one boy with brown eyes and –"

"I get the picture," Chuck interrupted tersely.

"I want a puppy too. Daddy always says I can have a puppy the next time we move, but he never gets me one." She was pouting again. "Can I have a puppy Chuck? Pleeeease?" She batted her eyelashes coquettishly and gazed up at him expectantly.

"Sure Sammy. You can have a puppy. Any kind you want."

_And a big frakkin' shot of Thorazine._

"Yay! I love puppies!" Sarah flopped down on the edge of the bed and bounced happily a couple of times. Chuck averted his eyes and shifted his sheet again.

"And I love you too, Chuck." She fell happily back amongst the sheets.

Chuck beat his head against the wall.

"Not. The. Way. I. Wanted. To. Hear. That." he gritted out in time with his thumps.

"Chuck? What in the world are you doing over there?"

Her voice had changed. Sammy had gone back to whatever Hell dimension had spawned her, and His Sarah had come back to him.

"Sarah?" He barely dared ask the question.

"Who else would I be?"

"You have no idea," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Never mind."

"Okay." Her voice dropped an octave, grew husky and sultry. "But I do have to ask again what you're doing over there, so far away from me?"

"Er…" Chuck was indecisive. Did Sarah know what had happened? Should he tell her? "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Well it appears that you're banging your head against the wall. And I was really hoping that you'd be banging something else against me by now." She raised her eyebrows suggestively.

Chuck gulped and involuntarily let his sheet drop.

"Um… er…" He cast his eyes around the room looking for an excuse and they landed on the laptop that had fallen off of the bed. "Beckman!" he said. "The laptop fell open and Beckman was still trying to raise us."

Faster than he could fully contemplate her moving, Sarah swooped off of the bed, grabbed the laptop and smashed it to pieces against the Louis XIV nightstand.

"Phone?" she asked briskly.

Mutely, Chuck pointed to the table by the window. Her phone and his met similar fates in turn.

"Now forget about Beckman. You're supposed to be paying attention to me."

For a moment, Chuck mourned the death of yet another iPhone. "You could have just turned them off."

She stalked across the room towards him, an exaggerated sway to her hips, and came up to twine her fingers in his hair. This time she was definitely not making animal shapes. She pulled his head roughly down to her and met his lips with a searing kiss.

"Sarah," he gasped, pulling free.

"Mmm hmm?" Her hands were starting to roam freely over his body again. "Yes, Chuck?"

At the sound of his name being breathed in his ear again, Chuck's toes curled and he squeaked out his question an octave too high. "Are you sure this is what you really want?" He cleared his throat. "I want you to be absolutely sure before we go any further."

"Yes Chuck, I'm sure." She stroked his cheek and met his eyes intently. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

Her hand dipped below his waist and squeezed gently. Chuck's eyes rolled back in his head.

"Well, what's a little pedophilia between friends?" he muttered under his breath, drawing her in and beginning to move within her hand.

"What was that?" she asked absently, her tongue already starting to trace a line along his neck.

"Nothing. Just forget it ever happened. I know I'm certainly going to."

"Good," she purred. And with one quick, graceful movement born of years of spy training, Sarah had him pinned beneath her on the bed.

Rapidly, their movements grew heated again, the sweat began to pour, and before too much longer, Chuck found himself back where he had started—perched on his elbows above one very naked and very willing Sarah Walker. And _this_ time no power in the 'verse could—

"Hee. I told you that tickles."

"NOOOOOOoooo!" Chuck leaped off of SarahSammy and into the middle of the room. "Dammit Sarah!"

"Chuck? Why are you so mad at me? And why do you keep calling me Sawah?"

Chuck stalked angrily around the room, pulling on his pants. "You have to make up your mind," he shouted. "I can't keep having you come back every time I… I…" He flopped his hands uselessly. "This just isn't going to work for me."

Sarah sat up, her face crumpled and tears starting to fall.

"What did I do?" she cried. "I try to be a good girl."

Chuck picked up his white shirt and his boxers and threw them at her roughly.

"Just get dressed."

Crying, Sarah started to pull on the clothes, fumbling with the buttons and feeding them through the wrong holes.

"I don't understand why you're so mad with me. We don't have to have a puppy if you don't want to."

Seeing her sitting there on the bed, sniveling, dressed in his mis-buttoned clothes and gazing up at him with those hurt eyes, Chuck softened a bit.

"It's not the puppy," he assured her. "You can still have any puppy you want. I'm just a little… frustrated… right now."

"I don't like you when you're fwustwated. You get all mad angry-bear like Casey."

_Casey!_

"I'm sorry," he apologized cursorily, digging in his spygear case and pulling out a watch. "I just need to go and take care of my frustration before it falls off, okay? Uncle Casey is going to come and stay with you. You'd like that, right?"

Sarah sniffed and nodded. "Casey lets me throw knives at gummy bears when I'm bored."

"That's good. Just don't lose us the deposit on this room, okay?"

"Okay." She smiled slightly.

Chuck smiled back, then pressed a button and spoke into the watch.

"Casey! I know you're on this frequency. You need to come and take care of your partner now. Room 815."

Throwing the watch back into the case, Chuck strode over to the room's phone and made a call to the hotel concierge.

When Casey arrived, Sarah was sitting happily at the window, busy at work with a coloring book and crayons and sucking on a chocolate milkshake. Chuck had a quarter-empty bottle of scotch in his hand and was dressed for a night out on the town.

Casey took in the sight and grunted. "You kids having fun?"

Chuck held out his hand. "Phone," he demanded.

With a knowing smirk, Casey handed over his phone. Scrolling through the contacts, Chuck breathed a sigh of relief when he found the name he was looking for and pressed Send.

"Roan!" he exclaimed when the call connected. "How the hell are ya?

"It's Chuck…

"Chuck Bartowski?

"No, I'm sorry, I have no idea what time it is in Palm Springs. Am I interrupting something?

"Of course I am. You're you.

"Oh… twins. Really? That's fascinating. But I was really hoping I could ask you a question…

"Well sir, I suppose I am honored that you can always find time for your favorite protégé…

"Well, no. Things are not going at all well with that delicious Agent Walker, which is the reason I'm calling. I suddenly find myself single and in Paris and I was hoping that you could give me some first-timer's pointers on the Red Light Dristict…"

Chuck snatched a pen off of the nightstand and scribbled a number on his palm.

"Madame Heather. Gotcha. I'll be sure to tell her you send your regards."

He grabbed a keycard and his jacket and walked to the door of the room. He turned back and covered the mouthpiece of the phone before exiting.

"Casey, why don't you go ahead and take Sybil there to a nice, soft padded room? Somewhere where she can play with the nice doctors. I'll catch up with you in a few days."

Casey grunted an affirmative and Sarah looked up from her coloring books.

Chuck turned his attention back to the phone.

"Oh really? You don't say? And they both do this thing with the straps and the feathers? I think that's worth the upcharge…"

Chuck's voice trailed off as he strode down the hall.

"I don't like the doctors," Sarah whispered up at Casey.

He sat down across the table from her and looked at her sternly. "You left your meds back in LA, didn't you Sammy?"

Sarah bit her lip and nodded sheepishly, her eyes downcast.

"You know bad things happen when you forget your meds, don't you? And now Chuck knows too."

Sarah choked on a sob. "Please don't make me see the doctors again!"

Casey smiled at her indulgently. "Let's just see how good you are. I'll let you in on a little secret," he swept his eyes around the room dramatically to make sure nobody was watching. "I don't like those doctors either." Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. "Besides, I was hoping to go see a friend while I was in France and I just traced her to San Tropez."

"Ooh!" Sarah immediately brightened. "Cawina's in San Tropez! Can we go see her please? Huh? Huh? Can we? Can we? Pleeeeease!" She clasped her hands under her chin and twisted back and forth in her chair fervently.

"Well…" Casey drawled out slowly. Sarah held her breath and widened her eyes until they nearly popped out of her face. "I suppose so. If you promise to behave yourself." He tweaked her affectionately on the nose.

"Yay!" Sarah bounded out of her chair and began running around the room throwing random objects into Chuck's bag. "I like Cawina. She tickles me too!"

"Walker, there are some things about your personal life that I _don't_ need to know."

"Hee. I like it when you call me Walker. It's silly. Can we go now?"

"You think you might want to put on some clothes first?"

Sarah looked down at her shirt and boxers. "Oh."

Casey picked up the bag he had dropped by the door upon entering. "Here's your stuff. I picked it up on the way over."

Casey turned his back modestly while Sarah scrambled into some jeans and a top.

"Okay, I'm dressed. Can we go now? Huh?"

"Your shoes are on the wrong feet."

Sarah looked down and giggled. "I like them that way. Can we go? Please?"

Casey put an arm around her shoulders and steered her out into the hallway. "Walker, sometimes I swear I don't know what I'm going to do with you."

"You know, we had a Tennessee Walker when Daddy was conning the horse people. Her name was Guinevere. She reminds me of Cawina. Sometimes Cawina likes me to call her Guinevere when she's—"

"Walker!"

"Yeah, Casey?"

"You finish that sentence, and I will take out my gun and plow you down. Understood?"

"Hee. You said 'plow.'"


End file.
